Seven
by Caiyne
Summary: What can one do with seven minutes? Fix a mistake? Turn a corner? Save a life? How do you pay someone back for seven minutes and a second chance?
1. So Little Time

**Seven**

So Little Time

A Kim Possible fiction

* * *

Disclaimer: I claim no ownership to Kim Possible or any of its characters, locations, episodes, catchphrases, et cetera, et cetera… I think you get the drift, eh?

Author's Notes: Right then, welcome to Caiyne's first expedition into the wide world of fan fiction, and more specifically, Kim Possible fan fiction. I felt the urge to write my own little epic after the premier weekend for STD, and after reading the works of G-Go, Ayotte, and Charles Grey. So anyway, thanks in advance for bothering to look into this, and here's something of a brief overview of the first book. Kim and Ron are seniors at school, concerned with just living life. That is, until Wade pitches them a new mission. It appears that Shego is out to steal a device that could shift the balance of global power (Isn't she always?), resulting in her taking up a more prominent position in running things, say, oh, Empress of the world. Kim and Ron decide that they really should do something about that. This story isn't going to be in continuity with So The Drama, as I want to put my own version of Kim and Ron's relationship out there. As I said, this is my first fanfic so drop me some reviews and tell me what you liked, what you didn't, and what to change and improve on for next time.

* * *

_What can one do with seven minutes? Fix a mistake? Turn a corner? Save a life? How do you pay someone back for seven minutes and a second chance?_

* * *

Incandescent green energy flared sharply from Shego's fists as she dropped into a crouch and glared at Kim. "Y'know, you're really starting to grate, Kimmy."

Kim smirked and dropped into a combat stance. "Oh, don't worry – After the eighth or tenth time I've foiled your schemes, the feeling's mutual."

With a snarl, Shego threw herself across the walkway at Kim. Kim rolled to the side, ducking under Shego's sweeping arms and leveraging an ineffectual kick at her ribs as Shego flew past. She came up in a crouch and caught Shego's countering overhand blow with crossed forearms. Kim latched onto Shego's wrist and pulled, throwing her off balance and scissored her legs through Shego's knees, dropping her to the concrete. Shego rolled away and lashed out with a pointed boot, catching Kim high on the arm and throwing her backwards. She grinned savagely and lashed out with a pair of emerald bolts from her fists, driving Kim back towards the railing of the dam. Once again Kim dodged to the side as Shego launched herself towards her, the blazing glove tearing through the iron railing as Kim jerked her head to the side. She ducked as Shego swept her leg through the space her head had just occupied with a roundhouse kick, and jabbed a fist into Shego's midsection. Shego rolled backwards with the blow as her breath rushed out from the hit. She rubbed at her stomach with one hand and glared at Kim.

"Not bad, princess… I'm really going to enjoy taking you apart piece by piece."

"Oh come ON Shego – How many times have you threatened me with that before, and how many times have you failed to deliver?" Kim smirked again, "After all these defeats, I'd have expected you to give up by now… Have to give you points for determination, though." Kim flipped forward, closing the distance with Shego and throwing a pair of quick jabs at her head. Shego deflected the attacks and countered with her own flurry of blows and kicks, bulling Kim back towards the railing. She grinned, a malicious glint sparkling in her eye as Kim bounced back off the waist-high iron railing.

"It's been real, Kimmy, but I think it's time you made your permanent exit." Shego feinted a knee upwards toward Kim's midsection, and when she went to block, Shego made her move.

* * *

Ron buried his fist in the last henchman's stomach and grinned in satisfaction as the goon crumpled to the ground with a satisfying wheeze. He glanced over at where Kim and Shego were brawling and his face stiffened in anguished disbelief. Time seemed to melt and stretch like molten plastic as he watched Kim rebound off the weakened railing and crouched to protect her middle, leaving herself completely open from Shego's feint.

* * *

_Twenty-five yards._

* * *

Shego took a half step backwards and flipped backwards, her booted foot connecting with Kim's chin with stunning force and sending her flinging backwards into the handrail. The broken iron sagged slightly, and Kim slipped backwards, farther off balance. Her eyes widened in shock and she wind milled her arms franticly, desperate to reach some sort of equilibrium. Slowly, ever so slowly she stopped falling backwards, the railing groaning as it accepted her weight. A heavy wave of relief washed uniformly over all the members of Team Possible and Kim tensed, readying herself to flip away from the broken railing and back onto the relative safety of the walkway.

As she coiled herself and began her leap, Ron caught a faint scramble of movement out of the corner of his eye from the shadowed interior of the control tower. A cobalt beam lanced out, a slash of brilliant color across a dead landscape, and sliced across the concrete just below Kim's feet. There was a slightly perceptible pause, a fraction of a second that could lead an on-looker to believe it was just a poorly aimed shot – that Kim Possible's life hadn't just been cut as neatly as if she was a stalk of wheat under the scythe. Then the fraction ended and the walkway underneath her exploded outwards in a hellish mix of fire and molten shrapnel.

* * *

_Twenty-five yards separated two lives._

_Twenty-five yards separated two futures._

_Twenty-five yards was all that separated Ron Stoppable from the greatest part of his life, and twenty-five yards tore them apart forever._

* * *

The auburn angel tumbled, whirling and twisting in a maddening display from the force of the shockwave. A slender hand dipped to the holster at her side, and the famous (or infamous, depending on your legal standing) hairdryer appeared. Kim Possible about to make another miraculous escape from deaths icy clutches. A hollow chuckle drifted out of the shadowed control tower. "I think not." A slight targeting adjustment and a twitch of one index finger, depressing a firing stud. A second cobalt thunderbolt lanced its way across the dam, this time caressing the teen's extended arm. Flesh, plastic, and metal melted, ran as wax, and was vaporized in an instant within the confines of the beam, no more than the space taken up by your doubled fist. An agonized, piercing shriek tore from the mouth of the teen heroine, and she tumbled away, carried off behind the curtains of spray and mist by gravity's sweet embrace.

* * *

"Kim!"

Ron's anguished scream tore across the walkway, and he was half-way over the railing before belatedly remembering that his jetpack was so much broken slag. His voice trailed off, dulled by the unspeakable loss that tore at his heart and mind as he watched the only person he ever cared for plummet down towards the raging maelstrom below. He slipped off the rail and sank brokenly to his knees, tears streaming freely down his face. A dull roar filled his ears, and Ron stared unseeing at the concrete beneath him. Kim. Kimberly Ann Possible, teen hero, friend, confidante. She wasn't gone – she _couldn't_ be gone. Ron, staring through the windows in the prison his mind had become, faintly heard someone weeping, but couldn't make the connection between the sounds and the sobs that wracked his thin frame. The scraping of heavy boots against metal could be heard as the unknown marksman climbed down from the tower. A sneer of disgust was all the acknowledgement Ron was given as the heavy tread continued right by him.

Shego stood with her arms crossed across her chest, slightly pale, her features twisted in a disapproving frown. "That's not how things are supposed to be done."

The shadowed figure stopped a few feet from her and raised an eyebrow. "Not how things are supposed to be done? Are you serious? Did you _enjoy_ being beaten every other week by a teenage cheerleader?" He shook his head in disgust.

Shego squirmed a bit and her frown slipped into a troubled expression. "Well, I mean, of course not, but... You shot her. You shot Kim Possible. That's just not done."

"If you don't have the nerve for this business, _mercenary_," He spat the word out like it was rotten, "Then speak up. I've come too far for some weak-kneed little girl to screw me up with second thoughts."

Shego's eyes narrowed dangerously and a flicker of emerald flame glittered its way up her forearms. "You might want to watch your mouth or you'll find out the hard way what this little merc can do." He snorted and walked away down the dam, slinging the heavy rifle across his back.

"Just get the device, Shego. I really don't have time for your attitude."

* * *

Ron slowly came somewhat back to himself, the roaring white noise receding, and the behind-glass-windows feeling left his perceptions. He was back in his body, crying softly as his hands twisted and wrung against each other, but back.

_Time… I needed more-_

* * *

She scowled darkly and started walking over towards the weeping, broken teen. _Jeez, I mean, sure she's his best friend, but I... I mean he... This destroyed him..._ She was just a little disconcerted at the twinge she felt at those thoughts. She shook herself angrily and continued walking. _What's wrong with me? He's the sidekick of my nemesis, my enemy! I don't care about his fragile little emotions._ The thoughts were meant to reassure, but somehow they rang hollow. She called out to the boy, raising her voice to be heard over the roar of the spillway. "Alright, Stoppable... I don't want to hurt you any more. Just hand over the device, nice and easy, and we'll go our separate ways."

Ron suddenly twitched, jerked from his sorrow by Shego's comment._ Time!_ _Of course! The Freeze-Frame project!_ He franticly pawed his pockets, laying hand to a black cylindrical object eight inches long and three inches wide. He desperately wracked his brain for what information he could remember from Wade's description of the device.

"_So, what does this flash-freeze do, exactly?"_

_Wade sighed, "Freeze-Frame, Ron, Freeze-Frame. To put it simply, it's a temporal distorter, capable of unleashing immense energy to shape the fabric of space time."_

"_Yeah, ok, that's cool, but Kim here looks like she needs a run through man."_

_Wade grinned at them from out of the Kimmunicator's screen. "It's a very basic time manipulator, guys. With it you can freeze the flow of time for all but the user, or you can go back to a particular point in time. Not so much like the Tempus Simia idol you guys took off of Shego, though. Freeze-frame actually reverses the entire time stream, like hitting rewind on a VCR. You don't specifically travel through time; you just erase it up to a certain point and start again. But because of technological and power constraints, the device is only capable of a seven-minute operation. You can walk about unimpeded in frozen time for seven minutes, or you can reverse the time stream back seven minutes into the past."_

"_That is TOTALLY **BADICAL!**" Ron gave Rufus a high-five as their minds poured over all sorts of uses and schemes for the machine._

_Kim rolled her eyes, "So not, Ron. Can you imagine if Shego got her hands on it? Not a fun prospect." She turned back to the Kimmunicator, "So then, let me guess Wade, Shego and Drakken are on their way to steal this Freeze-Thingy, right?" Wade nodded sagely at the pair. "Well, come on Ron – Time to go crush Drakkens hopes and dreams again."_

"_Ah, Kim, before you two head out, you should probably know that this device is still highly experimental. It's never really had a field test, and with the amount of power this thing messes around with, I wouldn't suggest giving it a joy ride. It's been theorized that if the thing didn't work as planned and backfired it could very well rip a discontinuity in the fabric of reality."_

_Kim arched an eyebrow at the screen, "I take it that's a bad thing."_

"_Picture a quantum singularity that consumes the entire planet in a matter of minutes, starting with you guys."_

"_Ah, right, bad thing. Gotcha Wade, thanks."_

Seven minutes! He fumbled desperately with the device like a man possessed. _Not enough time!_ He furiously blinked back tears as he rotated the central collar around the main housing until it clicked and the ready lights burned crimson. Shego, who'd been slowly walking towards the boy and his mole rat started visibly when she saw him turn the device on.

"Stoppable, stop messing with things you couldn't possibly understand."

Ron could feel the seconds bleed away into the air, each one a tiny piece of his very being dying as his second chance slipped away from him. He flipped the two switches set on either side of the controls and the lights began to blink in succession while a high-pitched whine spooled up from somewhere inside the cylinder. Had the situation been entirely different, Ron might have been amused. The most sophisticated piece of technology on the planet and all it had to operate it was two silver buttons marked Stop and Back. Shego broke into a run when she saw Ron flip the activation switches, pounding across the concrete towards him.

"Stoppable, do you have any idea what that thing will do to you? Put it down now or so help me…" She literally flew across the intervening space. Fifteen yards. Ten. Six. Ron pulled himself to his feet and faced the raging Shego, straightening his shoulders and holding the temporal distorter out to her.

"You want this, Shego?" He took a deep breath and dashed the tears from his eyes. "Fine, choke on it!" With that he wound his arm back, toggled the Back button, and hurled the device straight at her face. There was a high-pitched whine as it flew through the air and the device exploded into a blazing sheet of white incandescence.

Ron Stoppable's world burned away in a universe of searing white noise.


	2. The Beginning

**Seven**

The Beginning

A Kim Possible fiction

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Disclaimer: I claim no ownership of Kim Possible or any of its characters, locations, episodes, catchphrases, et cetera, et cetera… Not that re-stating the obvious isn't great fun, but nothing has changed in the last couple days to grant me ownership and nothing will in the days following, so I'm just not going to bother with this anymore.

Author's Notes: Ah, the second chapter. Something of a milestone... A virtual landmark showing that I haven't completely bombed off the scene yet. Rather uplifting, isn't it? grins Anyway, being as it seems to be standard operating procedure, allow me to heap much thanks on my faithful (faithful? It's only been one chapter) reviewers, most notably, The needy stranger and captainkodak1, and Toast, of course, for being my first reviewer. Yeah, I do realize that it's not the most original plot line in the world, but I should probably point out that So Little Time is just my hook. And, being as this is my first fanfic, I wanted to start small... Work my way up to the insanity that festers behind every coherent sentence.

I'd also like to take this opportunity to point out that no, this is not, in fact, a death fiction as some seem to believe. There'll be some angst, but you shouldn't be crying into your cola. A goodly chunk of this story is going to be more normal life (something along the lines of Ayotte's Equal Romance masterpiece), or, at least it will be until I work my way back up to chapter one. And, finally, if you hadn't guessed it from the title already, this is the chronological beginning of the story. So Little Time happens time-wise about half-way through. I'm writing this from the whole "flashback to the beginning of this god-awful mess" angle that you see in a lot of movies. I'd also like to apologize a little bit for So Little Time. I re-read it (like, fifteen or sixteen bloody times, even) and it just came across a little... forced. This is because I had written it originally, but then I changed the whole direction I wanted the story to go, and being as I didn't want to waste it all (and I really liked the whole Dam scene when it played out in my head), I just sort of beat it into submission and slapped it up there.

I know that this isn't a whole lot of story for the three or four days it took to slap up, but I've got a chronic problem with procrastination. I've even been know to put off putting off doing something. The whole point of this is that if ever there's a time when your infinite patience is fed up with my inherent laziness; feel free to call me on it. My e-mail's in my profile, so any time a week has gone by with no explanations from me, go ahead and fire away. I'd also appreciate some e-mails if any of you guys have any questions or tips on writing... This is already the most involved project I've ever tried, and I'm a total amateur at this author's game anyway, so tips'd be greatly appreciated. Anyway, without any further adieu, I present to you the second chapter, Seven: The Beginning.

* * *

Yeah, this wasn't looking good. As if the steady drip coming from his water plastered hair wasn't enough, there wasn't enough dry fabric within twenty yards in any direction to mop the persistent moisture from his face. Ron Stoppable wiped at his face with a cold, clammy hand anyway and muttered under his breath. The worst part about the whole situation is that normally he even _liked_ the rain, but this wasn't even rain, it was just constant, dripping, foggy misery. A small pink shape scrambled out of his pocket and scurried up to perch on his shoulder, muttering his own opinion of the horrible weather. Ron reached up and scratched his friend on the head with one finger. "Yeah, I know Rufus, but we'll be at Kim's place in a couple of minutes and you can wring yourself out there." The mole rat, apparently satisfied, sighed and slipped its way back down Ron's clothes back into his pocket to look for something to munch on.

They continued to trudge through the gloomy morning, heads bent low against the grey, arms pulled in tight beneath a sodden jacket. The morning held but one hope for them, a shining outpost of heaven, their oasis, their Medina, their Promised Land if you will. And that place was the modest, two-story home of the Possible family. It hung before them, a tantalizing mirage that spoke of warmth, food, and, most of all, a respite from the wretched misty drizzle that had plagued them since stepping foot from Ron's house ten minutes before. The strange pair rounded the corner and they came within sight of their goal. Sitting serenely, windows blazing incandescence against the gloom stood the house, their refuge lay a scant two blocks away. Ok, maybe he was laying it on a bit thick, what with all the havens and promised lands and such, but Ron always was prone to the old melodrama. Either way, five minutes was all that lay between him and an end to this accursed morning. His pace picked up a bit, and there was even the slightest hinting of a spring in his step at the thought of the warm cup of coffee, the soft towel, and, most especially of all – though he'd admit it to no one – the fiery, red-headed cheerleader that was the central aspect of his life.

He crossed the last intervening road between him and his goal, and the rising purr of an engine coming down the street behind should have warned him that his day was about to take a turn for the worse, if that was even at all possible. But being soaked to the skin, cold, and tired from a late night, all Ron could focus on was the last fifty yards of sidewalk that would carry him to Kim's door. The engine suddenly took on a much louder, more aggressive growl as someone put their foot down, and there was a swish of tires as the car swerved towards the sidewalk. Ron whirled at the noises, alarm spread across his features and he caught a single fleeting glimpse of a head of brown hair and that immortal smirking sneer before the veritable tsunami of muddy rainwater the maneuver had caused to explode out of the gutters enveloped him in its cold embrace.

He stood there, blinking, stretched out on the balls of his feet, arms extended to his sides, about to leap back to safety as the wave washed over him. He held the position for a few moments, unwilling to move as dirty liquid streamed from his arms, legs, face and clothes. _Not even Barkin can make this day any worse._ His breath hissed out from between clenched teeth and he clenched his fists as he turned, shook himself, and resumed squishing his way towards the house.

* * *

Kimberly Ann Possible jumped up from where she'd been sitting on the couch when the doorbell chimed its insistence that someone stood waiting on the porch. She heard her mother call out from the kitchen as she walked quickly over to the door "That'll be Ron, Kimmy, better let him in." She clicked the lock off the door, turned the handle and hauled back, letting the door swing wide into the room. Her greeting died on her lips, her eyes widened, and an eyebrow arched in question at the sight that stood before her.

"Hey Ron – Jeez, what happened to you!"

The blond senior scowled as he stepped through the doorway, muddy trails sketched across his face as the water ran down out of his hair. "Unfortunately for us, Smarty Mart has yet to release a line of Rockwaller-proof clothing." He stripped off his jacket and dropped it on the mat with a look of disgust. Kim's eyes hardened at the mention of Bonnie, and the lines of her face sharpened almost unnoticeably, well, unless you had known here since pre-school and practically lived in the same house with her.

"Maybe I should have a little chat with Bon Bon after school today..."

"And cause more problems for you? Nah, don't worry about it KP, it's no big." He shrugged and mopped at his dirty face with one hand. "You wouldn't happen to have a towel or something, would you? I'm a little soggy to be wandering all over your house."

Kim blinked, her fantasies of holy vengeance wrought upon the person of Bonnie Rockwaller ended and locked back away for safe keeping. "Oh, uh, yeah, sure Ron, just a sec." She turned and walked off to scrounge up a towel for her disheveled best friend.

Ron leaned back against the door and grabbed Rufus out of his pocket. The rodent glanced around and cheered when he saw that they had reached the safety of Kim's house. He scrambled his way up to Ron's shoulder, gnawing away at a piece of candy he'd dug up. Kim's mom stuck her head out of the kitchen to offer a greeting, with much the same results as Kim had had. "Hello there, Ron – My, what happened? Are you all right?"

He flashed her one of his trademark goofy grins and shrugged. "Got in a fight with a puddle... Turned out like most of my fights do, so I guess I'm lucky to still be able to walk away." She laughed as he winked knowingly at her.

"Well, Kimmy will be right back with a towel for you and Rufus, and you've got a few minutes, so would you like something? There's a fresh pot of coffee and some pancakes and eggs left from breakfast. I can fix you a plate in just a minute."

Rufus' eyes got very wide and he started jumping up and down on Ron's shoulder. Ron grinned and nodded, "I can't say no to Mrs. Dr. P's cooking, well, at least not with Rufus right here. That'd be great." He took a step forward but stopped and glanced down sheepishly as his wet sneaker squeaked as he left the door mat. Dr. Possible smiled and waved him back onto the rug.

"Take your shoes off, Ron, and dry off. Kim should be right back and I don't really want you tracking water all through the house." She turned and went back into the kitchen as Kim came down the hallway and tossed a pair of towels to Ron. He smiled his thanks and began attacking the soaking mess of himself with a vengeance. A few minutes of wringing and toweling had stopped the most obvious streams of water, at least, and he pronounced himself adequate enough to pop into the kitchen for a minute. He looked down at his jacket, or more specifically the puddle of water that was still leeching out of it, opened the door and tossed it out onto the porch. It really wasn't of any use to him in that condition, anyway, and he'd rather just skip the trouble.

He padded into the kitchen and eyed the heaping platter of pancakes, scrambled eggs, and bacon that Mrs. Possible set on the counter, and the quart of steaming coffee she poured into a heavy mug. "There you go, Ron, eat up. I've got to go – I have a triple bi-cranial reduction scheduled in half an hour. You kids have fun at school." Ron groaned at that and the pair of Possibles rolled their eyes, chuckling. The boys tore into the stacks of pancakes with a furious clanking of cutlery on porcelain. Four minutes and seventeen seconds later, nothing remained of the feast, except for the half mug of coffee Ron was in the process of downing. Kim just shook her head and slipped out to gather her things. Ron chugged the rest of the brew down, tossing the dirty dishes in the sink as he raced to catch up with his best friend as she grabbed a long trench coat from the closet and headed out the door.

She nodded towards the jacket tossed carelessly to the side. "Aren't you going to be needing that?"

He held out his arm and shrugged as he was _still_ dripping. "I really don't see it helping much, KP. Let's just get this over with. The sooner this day ends the happier I'll be." Nevertheless, he still hunched his shoulders up tight as they stepped out from under the roof's overhang and out into the dismal morning. Kim shot him a questioning glance, then shrugged and continued walking. Ron knew what he was doing... Well, ok, maybe not, but she _hoped_ Ron knew what he was doing. The horrid weather even damped down on Ron's incessant chattering, and so they soldiered on in silence.

The two heroes turned the corner and slipped in mute suffering down the sidewalk towards their objective, the site where the "greatest years of their lives" were frittered away. Middleton High School. Oh how Ron despised it's sterile, institutionalized halls. If there wasn't some thick-skulled, hulking pseudo-gorilla jock shoving him into lockers, there was a stuck-up, arrogant, insufferable cheerleader sneering down a pert little nose at him. Even the normal students thought he was a joke – Hell, he'd even been jibbed by the science club before. And then there was _him._ As if the humiliation meted out by his peers and his own painful mishaps wasn't enough, Steve Barkin was always there to haunt him. A jack-of-all-trades substitute teacher, he ruled with an iron fist and a heavy-handed detention policy. Weeks of Ron's life had been bled away from him for the most innocuous little misdemeanors. So what if he'd accidentally knocked that beaker into the Bunsen burner... It wasn't as if the explosions or the fire had hurt anyone, and the chemistry lab had only taken two weeks to rebuild. Or that thing with the... Ron shivered – well, no, perhaps it was best not to think of _that_ little incident... Out of sight and out of mind and all that. Even Ron knew when it wasn't wise to push one's luck.

Kim surreptitiously studied her best friend out of the corner of one deep green eye. His deep brown eyes bored into the concrete exactly five feet in front of him, seeming to stare through the physical matter and into the spaces beyond, lost deep in thought. A slight frown creased his forehead as one corner of his mouth twitched downward, a look of concentration etched on his features. She, of course, knew of the pains that school caused him, but she was captain of the cheer squad, the cream of the social elite crop – such pains were as alien to her as the rings of Saturn. She saw him shiver again, but he never swept his gaze from the concrete. He looked completely miserable, and her lips twitched in a wan little smile and she shook her head. What in the world would Ron Stoppable do without her? "Ron." His name rolled off her lips softly, the deadening effect of the morning allowing for only quiet noise. He didn't look up from his silent brooding, seeming not to have heard. "Ron." She called again, putting a little more force into the word so that he'd notice. Hey blond sidekick blinked a few times and looked up, a slightly quizzical expression on his face as he turned to her.

"What's up KP?" He absently rubbed at his arms, trying to instill a little warmth back into the aching limbs. She rolled her eyes and stopped, forcing him to halt as well. He turned completely about to face her, one eyebrow slightly raised. "What's wrong, Kim?"

She took one dainty hand, extended her index finger and pointed sharply at the ground, about a foot in front of her. "Come here." He walked over and stopped a few feet away, protecting her personal space, arms still rubbing together for warmth. She crooked her finger and pointed at the ground again. "Come _here_, Ron." He hesitantly stepped up to the auburn heroine, one hand moving up to rub the back of his neck in his own personal nervous tic.

"Uh... Wh... Err, what's the problem, KP?" Her closeness sent a flush of warmth shooting through him, an immediate benefit that she knew nothing about. The rush grew as she leaned in closer to him, gently grasping the raised arm and pulling it down.

"Ron, look at you. You're soaking wet and freezing... You'll catch pneumonia before we get within a block of the school." She pulled free the belt of her trench coat and slipped it off her shoulders. "C'mere already, we don't want to be late." She leaned into him and settled one shoulder of the trench coat across his shoulder, and pulled the other across their backs and around her shoulder, warding them both against the damp and chill. She snuggled in closer to him for a bit of extra warmth. "There, much better, don't you think? We'll have to hurry or we're going to be late for Biology." The pair walked off into the mist of a suddenly much friendlier morning.


	3. It Drags On

**Seven**

It Drags On

A Kim Possible Fiction

* * *

Author's Notes: Heh, again, sorry for the wait... Procrastination, gotta love it. Anyway, here's chapter three. This is shaping up to be a lot longer than I'd originally anticipated... Two chapters and counting and I'm not even past the first day. Ah well, so it goes. In this one I really tried to make Mo – Err, Mankey out to be a good guy, like he is in the show. It was a lot harder than I'd expected it would be... Guess I'm more pro Kim and Ron than I thought. There's not too much else to say about this chapter... Just sort of a placeholder while I work out some details on where I want this headed.

Again, thanks for reading. I'm not much into German movies, so I wouldn't really know about Lola Rennt, but I guess it can't be that bad a comparison. Sadly I've got no plans to include Galaxy Quest in this story, much to Tim Allen's dismay. He spent six hours on the phone with me yesterday, begging for a Taggart Cameo, but I wouldn't budge. As I already said, I'm a big K/R 'shipper, so that's most likely where I'll end up, no worries there, Jas. I'll try to pump out the next chapter in a couple of days, being as this one's sort of a cop out. Here you go ladies and gents, Seven: It Drags On.

* * *

Kim and Ron strolled up to the front doors of Middleton High, oblivious to the assorted strange looks they got from the few students still loitering about before class. Ron pushed open the door and they slipped inside out of the miserable morning. They stood there for a few seconds, luxuriating in the warmth that flooded the building. Ron glanced around and noticed a few people staring in their direction and coughed. He shucked his side of the coat and held the side as Kim slid her arm back into the sleeve. "Ah, thanks KP." He rubbed the back of his neck and graced her with a small smile. She returned the smile and opened her mouth to say something, but an arrogant, haughty voice interrupted her.

Think razor blades immersed in honey, and you'll be able to picture it. "Well well, the losers finally made it. Aww and little Ronnie's all wet again. You sure you're babying him enough, Kimmy? I could probably find him a bib or something so you two could really look the part." They both stiffened at the sound of the voice. Kim whirled around, indignation flushed across her features, and took a step towards their verbal assailant.

Her eyes flashed and she opened her mouth to snap a retort when she felt a cold, clammy, yet firm hand take her by the elbow. Kim's mouth snapped closed and she ground her teeth as she turned to Ron, who just chuckled and shook his head, stepping ahead of Kim towards Bonnie. "Shouldn't you be out running over some poor little kid's puppy dog or something, Bon-Bon? I know it's hard to get complete thoughts through that cellulite head of yours, but we actually have a class to attend. You might want to get a move-on." He applied a gentle push against Kim's elbow that got her started off towards her locker and away from Bonnie, who gnashed her teeth and glared daggers at the pair of them.

"Fine, whatever. Like I have time in my busy schedule to put up with you freaks anyway." With an imperious toss of her tousled locks, Princess Bon-Bon stalked off down an adjacent hallway, pulling her fawning gaggle of giggling sycophants after her.

Ron rolled his eyes and shook his head. That's Bonnie for you, one constant in a whirlwind of adolescent change – She'd **_always_** be a bitch. He turned and jogged down the crowded hall to catch up with Kim, the both of them headed to their lockers before first bell rang. Ron was a few steps behind, dodging around the riptides of Middleton's youth while listening with half an ear to his friend rant on about her rival. "I mean, the nerve of her, coming up like that – you'd think she owns the place! And what was _with_ that outfit? Slut much? Argh, she just drives me crazy! Don't you think so Ron?" He opened his mouth to mumble something affirmative, his attention wandering elsewhere, but she didn't even pause for breath before continuing her tirade. "And, I mean... and... and..." Ron looked over at Kim as she trailed off. A sigh broke from deep in her chest and her face melted into a dreamy expression of hormones and longing. Ron's eyes tracked her line of sight and his gaze hardened imperceptibly. Rufus poked his head out of Ron's pants and stuck one small digit down his throat, making a retching sound. "Blah – Mankey!"

Joshua W. Mankey. Cool, collected, suave, handsome – he had it all, he was even an artist. His most valuable asset, though he probably didn't realize it, was the ability to completely entrance a certain cheerleading teen heroine to the point of complete, stuttering insensibility, and Ron absolutely **_hated_** him for it. _Yeah, you think you got it going on, Monkey? Well, I've got news for you, artsy-boy... You don't! Ha, how'd you like that little gem then, huh? I got the mad Fu skills, baby – You can't even **touch** this._ Of course, this all played out in the Middleton High of Ron's mind. Reality followed something along the lines of "Oh, Josh... Right." Kim didn't seem to notice – or care, for that matter. She took a half-step forward and then stopped, then another stutter step, trying to work up the nerve to go flag down this divine gift to teenage boyhood. She was still debating it with herself when Josh caught sight of the two of them and strolled over.

The artist nodded an acknowledgement to Ron's presence and flashed Kim a dazzling smile. "Hey Kim, how's it going?" Anyone watching could almost see the fuses exploding in her brain as she melted, scrambling for something to say to him. He seemed mildly amused at her distress, and waited patiently for her to answer. Hated or no, not even Ron could find fault in the guy's manners.

Kim flushed slightly and managed to stammer out a greeting. "Oh, h-hey Josh. I'm great, how're you?" She mentally shrieked at herself and felt an almost unbearable urge to find the nearest closet and blockade herself inside for the next ten to twenty years.

He smiled again and her knees wavered, ever so slightly. "Oh, you know, can't complain. Listen, I was wondering if you'd want to hang some time, like, this weekend, maybe."

There was a full second of silence as Kim's addled brain processed that. "A- You mean, you and me? Yeah, sure! Ah, I mean, I'd love to." She bit her lip and pulled herself together by sheer brute application of willpower. "Ah... Saturday, maybe?"

He grinned, "Yeah, Saturday'd be cool. Sevenish?" She nodded her head, still not trusting her mouth. "Alright, see you then." He glanced down at his watch and frowned. "Oh, hey, class starts in a couple, I'd better go. See you later, Kim, Ron." He waved and jogged off down the hall, headed up the west wing.

Kim stood there, a slightly pole axed look on her face and a dreamy smile tugging at her lips. Ron, behind her and out of her view, scowled at the floor for a second. "Time waits for no man, or cheerleader for that matter, KP. We need to get going if we're going to make English Lit." He walked up to her, an expectant look on his face. She stood there for another few seconds before managing to shake off her daze.

"Oh, yeah... Yeah, let's go, Ron." She caught a glimpse of the wall clock and realized they had only two minutes to make it all the way across the school. She started down the west hall a few steps before Ron cleared his throat.

"Ah, KP, not to ruin your scenic route," He blanched at that "scenic", "But Lit is in the _east_ wing, not the west wing." She flushed at his comment, and on realizing they – well, ok, she, was in fact going the wrong direction. Kim turned and shot him a sheepish smile before bolting down the east hall. Ron had to scramble to keep up, dodging and weaving around the last-minute rush to get to class. Such is the fate of the teenage sidekick. He brushed past a group of loitering freshmen, fighting to keep his footing in the crowded halls. They rounded the corner to the Literary Studies hall, and bolted for the door. Ron's eyes were drawn to another clock mounted on the wall. Forty-five seconds left. The seconds hand twitched again, one more notch slipping away between his afternoon and hard time in detention. Thirty seconds. Kim was ten feet away, her book bag flailing madly behind her as she ran when Ron saw one of her notebooks make a mad bid for freedom. It scuttled away, lost to Kim's awareness in the chaos of the hall. Ron sighed and dove after it, brushing aside fellow students until he at last laid hands on the book – but not before several feet had lain shoes to his hands. He straightened and turned, the classic slow-motion bolt before the clock ran down playing out. If you were watching, you could almost here the deep, long cry of "Nooooo" drift like a phantom below all the white noise of the hallway.

Ron's biggest mistake was that instead of watching where his headlong rush down the hall was taking him, he was watching his mashed fingers and trying to fix the crumpled cover of his friend's book. He realized and corrected this mistake in the same instance, lifting his face to watch where he was going. His second and final mistake was assuming that Mrs. Bartlett would be in and teaching English Lit, and he paid a heavy price for it. If you assume then you make an ass out of... Well, never mind. His eyes snapped into focus just in time to see one black shoe and a thick leg attached to it, and the big, heavy hand that was in the process of flipping the door back into its frame. Delicate freckled flesh met a solid inch and a half of compressed plywood with a resounding crunch that was heard all the way down the hall. Ron snapped back to his feet from the flat of his back, spewing curses and clutching at his mangled face with one hand while warding off further attack with the other. Through the stars and tears that clouded his vision, he caught a vague image of black shoes, tan khaki pants, and a brown sport jacket, all surmounted by a squarish head and a mop of carefully combed black hair. Barkin, it seemed, had just turned Ron's day southward once again.

"Stoppable. Late again I see." Steve Barkin stared down at the dazed, bleeding teenager. "That will, of course, be another fine afternoon's worth of detention for the both of us." Ron groaned, but no one could tell if that was from the punishment or the injury. "Now, if you wouldn't mind, we have seventeenth century abstract poetry to discuss for the next hour." Barkin stepped aside and Ron walked into the room, wiping blood from his face on the sleeve of his pullover and running his tongue over his teeth to make sure they were all still present and accounted for. He dropped Kim's notebook on her desk as he walked by and collapsed heavily into his chair, wincing at the vibrations that reverberated through his body up to his face. She shot him a wide-eyed, apologetic look and mouthed an apology as Mr. Barkin turned to the blackboard. He shrugged and pulled out his books, looking towards the lesson.

Sixty-five excruciating minutes later, twenty-seven students stumbled out of English Literature under the hawk-like gaze of Mr. Barkin. Ron walked ten paces down the hall before stopping and leaning back against the wall, eyes closed and head tilted back. "I _told_ you he's had it in for me since that time I ran into him in seventh grade."

Kim just shook her head and clutched at her notebook. "Ron... I... I'm so sorry, I know you wouldn't have been hurt if I didn't drop my notebook, and then you got detention, too..." Her face was downcast, and she wouldn't look at him.

Ron lazily opened one eye and chuckled, his trademark goofy grin sliding easily onto his face. "Pfft, so not the Drama KP. You know Barkin – If it hadn't been one thing it would've been another. And as for the property damage, it's no big... I only broke three fingers, snapped my nose in seven places, and suffered a pair of simultaneous minor concussions... The Ronster's built solid – I'll be good as new in the morning." She flashed him a small grin at that and he reached out and laid a hand on her shoulder. "Don't sweat it, KP. I'm fine, you've got your books, and I've got something to do during cheer practice after school today, everything's golden." He glanced up at the wall clock again. "Ah man, three minutes to get to math... I'll catch you at your locker at lunch, ok?"

She smiled again at his retreating form. That was Ron, always willing to go the extra mile, just to cheer her up. He might be hurting with his whole afternoon shot, but here he was, not angry, not even frustrated, helping her out. She wondered again what she'd done to deserve such a great friend, a thought that had been crossing her mind an increasing number of times in the last little while. With a little sigh she hitched up her book bag and set off for History class.

* * *

Amazingly, considering his luck, Ron made it all the way to the Math wing and into his desk without further incident. The pain in his nose was even enough to keep him from falling asleep in class today. Well, okay, so then maybe everything wasn't all perfect, but Ron would take what he could get. He stretched, glad to be out from Barkin's iron thumb, and enjoyed the calm before the storm of numbers and equations that he knew was brewing. He pulled open his bag, set his calculator and textbook on the desk and reached in again for his notebook. Nothing but slick nylon on his fingertips. He pulled his arm out and pulled the bag open wider, looking for the notebook. He stood up to see if he'd dropped it on the way in the class. No dice. He must have left it back in English Lit. Back... Back with Barkin. Ron groaned again and shot a glare at the ceiling. _Yeah, thanks a bunch, fate... Build me up just to smack me back down again and again._ He scowled, tossed his stuff back in his bag and took off for the Literary Studies hall again.

It was going to be a long day.


	4. Confrontational Much?

**Seven**

Confrontational Much?

A Kim Possible Fiction

* * *

Author's Notes: Well, as crushed as my dozen fans are going to be by this, the production schedule for Seven is getting the axe. Not only did I just get my new computer, along with Home World 2, and Baldur's Gate, but Conflict Calgary is in a month and a half, and I've got seven hundred dollars worth of Space Marine Scouts to put together and paint. Needless to say, I'm thinking eight to ten days per update minimum is going to be the order of the day for the next little while. I'm sorry, but when the child of the Lord of Murder and the Wraithguard chapter call, what's a guy to do? And, as for this particular chapter, this week has been insane... I've been running around trying to nail down a job offer, so I haven't had all that much time to devote to writing.

Anyway, this chapter moves the plot along a bit more, and finally gets me set up for finishing off of the first day (I know, _Finally_, right?). Also, you might have noticed that I've been writing almost exclusively about Ron. There is a reason for that beyond an implied crazed and vaguely disturbing obsession. Ron's going to end up with a backseat role for the last half of this story, so I'm putting him in the forefront to sort of balance out the equation. Well, that, and I really _do_ like writing about Stoppable – he's just a great character. Cheers, and I hope you enjoy Seven: Confrontational Much?

* * *

_One day in the life of a teenaged superhero, now with twice the Barkin at no extra cost! _Ron winced and shook his head, his ears still stinging from the verbal lashing the substitute had bombarded him with when he slipped back into class to grab his notebook. "That guy seriously needs to get out more... Enjoys making us kids suffer just a _liiitle_ too much" Rufus looked up at him from his niche in the cargo pants and nodded his head vigorously.

He rounded the corner of the now-empty hall, headed back to math class, a look of resigned acceptance written across his face. He opened the door and turned around to close it, quietly – class _had_ started five minutes ago, after all. He turned back to go to his seat only to find the cold hazel eyes of one Mrs. Whisp glaring at him from up at the chalkboard. "Since you've deemed it unnecessary to be punctual, _Mister_ Stoppable, I think I've deemed it unnecessary to suffer your interruption of my class." A hand shot up, holding a ruler and pointing right back out the portal he'd just entered through. "Perhaps next time you'll take enough interest to be on time to actually appreciate the lesson. But, not this time, I think." Ron opened his mouth to protest, and then clamped it shut again. He'd just end up with another day's worth of detention, and he wasn't all that partial to math class anyway. He sighed, turned, pulled open the door and left, but not before his shoelace caught on the door hinge and sent him sprawling out into the hall, much to the snickering amusement of the class.

_Could this day **get** any worse?_

* * *

_Fifty minutes. Just fifty minutes left and I can get out of here. It's only fifty minutes... Most of an hour, almost a quarter of my day. Four days ago I fought an insane genetic monkey freak on a crumbling pillar in the middle of a collapsing temple under a mountain in some tiny country buried in the jungles of the Pacific Rim whose name I couldn't even spell, much less pronounce. I handled that, I can handle fifty more minutes of this..._ Kim ground her teeth together and the knuckles of her hand clenched white around her pencil. She quashed the urge to impale the snarky, arrogant brunette who was sitting three feet behind her with the writing implement for the eighth time in the last fifteen minutes. She took a deep, calming breath and once more tried to block out the whispered torrent of insults and curses directed at her from Bonnie's razored tongue. The bitch had specifically, _deliberately_ chosen the spot right behind her, knowing full well Mr. Fentley, the history teacher, wouldn't be able to hear her over the background noise the heating system produced. It didn't help matters that two of Bonnie's litter had followed to the class and sat to her left and right, giggling and sniggering obscenely at every syllable that oozed from Bon-Bon's mouth. Kim just chewed on her molars some more and tried to copy down the notes Fentley was leaving on the blackboard. _Forty-two minutes. Forty-two minutes is no problem. I fought Shego nine days ago for almost three solid hours; I can deal with forty-two minutes. Just... Need to breathe. Concentrate on breathing. In. Out. In. Out. I am Kim Possible and this is no big. In. Out. In. Out._

Kim absently scratched at her neck, no longer even trying to look like she was paying attention to the lesson. Her fingers lingered, tracing the smooth lines of her flawless physical perfection. She imagined her fingers on Bonnie's neck, sliding up and down, caressing the delicate flesh. How easy it would be, too... Just a slight shift of pressure, a flick of the wrist, and then nothing but the sweet, sweet crunch of tearing cartilage and snapping vertebrae. She'd be changing her tune real quick after that. A savage grin split Kim's face as she toyed with the idea, and a plethora of subsequent variations, all of which involved much physical discomfort and bodily harm on Rockwaller's part.

Her eyes fixed on the page of her notebook as she ruthlessly ground the graphite tip of her pencil back into its subsequent molecules. An eternity seemed to pass as she concentrated solely on the muted scraping sensations that transferred up the length of the pencil and into the nerve endings in her fingers. She was dimly aware of the class drawing silent around her, but too caught up in her fantasies and her determination not to give into Bonnie's transparent attempts to get her to cause a scene. A moment passed, then two. Caught at the edges of her awareness, someone cleared his throat expectantly, but she wasn't distracted. _Can't let Bonnie get a rise out of me..._ There was only the grinding of the now-mashed pencil tip into the paper. The mystery figure cleared his throat again, louder, closer, more insistent. Kim sensed a presence, a mightily annoyed presence, standing just in front of her. She blinked twice, then once more and looked up into the disapproving frown of Mr. Fentley. "Well, Miss Possible?" His voice carried a heavy note of challenge in it.

Kim's eyes widened slightly as she scrambled to think up an answer to his un-heard question. "I... Ah, that is, I mean, ah..." The three jackals all burst out laughing, glorifying in her distress. Kim flushed slightly and clenched her teeth all the more, grinding chips between her molars.

Bonnie leered at the back of Kim's head. "Maybe you should leave all the hard questions to the smart people. I think little Kimmy here needs to go back to naming the states and presidents." Kim trembled in her seat, anger washing through her. The pencil in her right hand exploded into fragments, the sharp report echoing back from the closed space. Bonnie and her brown-nosers exploded into another fit of giggles as Mr. Fentley shook his head and turned back to the blackboard.

"I would suggest, _Miss Possible_, that you pay a little more attention to reality. Now, can anyone_ else_ tell me who preceded Chairman Mao? How about you, Jerry?"

_Yeah, smooth moves, Possible. Way to not make a scene._ Kim buried her face in her arm and groaned softly.

It was going to be a long thirty-five minutes until lunch.

* * *

There, there it was. An angel's cry foretelling a divine respite from the arduous labors of the day. Fifty minutes of bona fide "Me Time" – the lunch bell. To Kim it brought an end to her long, silent suffering. To Ron it brought the prospect of another hour with his best friend, the only positive prospect for the rest of this dismal morning. The pair of them were up and gone before the ringing had even faded from the halls. Ron, who had been wandering the halls like a waif, didn't have far to go to hit his locker, and so he beat out most of the crowds and sat back to wait. Kim on the other hand got to experience the joys of slogging through the veritable sea of young bodies, fighting the ebb and flow of the human tide. A few minutes of effort and she was thrown from the current at her destination, only slightly the worse for wear. Ron smiled as she leaned wearily against her locker. "Hey there, gorgeous."

She raised a questioning eyebrow and favored him with a smirk. "Reduced to using cheesy pick-up lines, Ron? Morning was _that_ bad, huh?"

He shuddered. "KP, you have _no_ idea." He scowled at the floor for a second, thinking back on the events of the morning. After a second, he realized that he was still standing in the hallway, with Kim waiting on him. He looked up and flashed her a quick grin. "I'll be telling my grandkids stories of this morning to keep them in line." She laughed and shoved him playfully.

"Come on gramps, let's go grab some lunch and see if we can't build ourselves a happy interlude to this horror story." She tossed her bag into her locker, slammed the door shut, and walked off down the hall towards the cafeteria beside him.

Kim and Ron, the prospect of food – even cafeteria food – weighing heavily on their minds, slipped through the halls, nodding and waving as they passed by assorted friends and acquaintances. They made it to within thirty feet of their goal before Murphy decided to pay another social call, and he was lugging an entire sack full of laws with him. Ron had slid almost all the way around a congregation of seniors occupying half the hallway when a thick, heavily muscled arm snaked its way out of the throng and spun him around in place. He staggered a bit before regaining his balance and looked up – _way_ up – into the stormy visage of one Edison Mitcham Walker. _Oh, great. Item number five on Grandpa Stoppable's morning from hell._ Ed was a forward tackle for the Middleton Mad Dogs football team, six feet and two-hundred and ten pounds of face-busting, loser-mashing Megajock. And, judging by the way Rockwaller clung to his left arm, her latest beau. Now, Brick Flagg Ron could deal with – they had an understanding, but Walker was a totally new variable. A huge, scary, cruel-looking variable. You did have to give them credit though; Ed and Bonnie's sneers were almost perfectly identical. "I heard you were hassling my girl, Stoppable. I don't like that." His voice was a menacing growl from low in his chest.

Ron backed up a step and put up his hands, palms out, desperate to avoid the confrontation they all knew was inevitable. "Whoa, whoa, first of all dude, Bonnie was harshing us way before I said anything, and secondly, it's not like we don't do this every single day. Why don't, y'know, we just be gentlemen about this... No need for violence, right? Right?" He looked back and between Ed and Kim. "See? No big, no hard feelings, we're all good here..." He was cut off as he turned back to Ed only to chew on the five pounds of knuckles and bone that connected with his face. To Ed, Ron's head made a satisfying thunk as it impacted with the locker across the hallway from where he'd stumbled back from the blow.

Ron put a finger to his mouth and wiped away crimson on his pants. "Seriously dude, ow." Kim jumped between them as Ed started forward. Rufus was up on Ron's shoulder, jumping up and down and chattering with rage. She fixed the jock with a cold stare, and he reluctantly stopped in his tracks. The stare down lasted a few long moments, but eventually it was Walker who looked away. Nobody, not even the Mad Dog's tackle, messed with Kim Possible. It was a quick ticket to the hospital, if even a tiny fraction of what they'd all seen on T.V. was accurate.

"Back off, Walker. Leave Ron alone... Go play flavor of the week with Bon-Bon somewhere else." He seemed reluctant, but Bonnie pulled back on his arm a bit.

"Come on Eddie, beating on losers gets old fast. We can do this again tomorrow or something." She flashed the two teen heroes a toxic smile, and pulled her boy-toy off down the hall.

Kim scowled after the pair, her face clouded with anger and disgust. "Come on Ron... Let's go get you some lunch." With that she latched onto his arm and tugged him into the cafeteria.

It was only a matter of a few minutes of effort before they stood at the end of the line, trays filled with that the Middleton Board of Education deemed a nutritious, government provided meal. You could probably find more edible substances pooling in the center of Love Canal. Ron scanned the room for a moment before spying out the waving forms of Monique and Felix who had claimed a table near the back of the hall. He nodded his head in their direction and followed Kim as she headed over.

"Hey there girlfriend." Kim smiled at Monique's greeting as she slid into a chair beside her. "How's it hangin'?" She looked over at the black visage of Ron as he dropped heavily into his seat beside Kim. "Jeez Ron, who'd you have to fight for breakfast today?" She arched a questioning eyebrow at him and grinned. He just scowled deeper and looked down at his tray.

Kim just shook her head. "Let's just say that Ron hasn't been having the best of mornings. Hopefully things will lighten up after lunch." She looked over at Felix. "Hey Felix, how's it going?"

Felix smiled and shrugged. "Oh, you know, same old same old." A cybernetic tentacle snaked out from the back of the boy's wheelchair, reaching across the table to scratch Rufus on the top of his head. "Hey Rufus, what's new buddy?" The mole rat just jumped up and down and chattered something that sounded remarkably like "lunch". He chuckled and turned back to his own lunch as Rufus devoured Ron's. Monique looked appraisingly at her two friends and saw how they were both tense and agitated.

"Hey Kim, everything all right? No problems or anything?"

Kim looked down at her tray and stabbed her fork through a slab of mystery meat, so hard that a pair of the plastic tines snapped off. A single, guttural word escaped past lips pulled back in a fearsome snarl. "Bonnie." Monique winced, mentally cataloguing the dozens, perhaps hundred of vicious fights she'd witnessed between the pair of them. "She's just, so... So... Argh!" Kim vented her frustrations on her innocent entrée, shredding it into unrecognizable mush. She so totally engrossed in destroying her meal that she failed to notice the tall bleached blonde that strolled over.

Josh chuckled as he watched Kim going postal all over her lunch. Her head snapped up instantly and the plastic utensils fell from her hands with muted clatters back onto her tray. "J... Hey Josh!" He grinned at her.

"Hey Kim. Just wanted to say hey, y'know." She smiled at him, her eyes quickly glazing over with that painful mix of hormones that Ron knew so well. He chuckled again and brushed a strand of auburn hair from in front of her face. "Anyway, like I said, just came by to say hello – Heading over to work on a project. Later Kim, guys." He nodded to the others. As he turned and walked away, Ron looked between Kim and Josh and snorted in derision.

Josh was out of earshot, but Kim's head snapped around and she spitted Ron with a blistering glare, her already Bonnie-frayed nerves flaring at this new irritation. "What is _your_ problem, _Ron_?" She dumped more venom in the words than she'd meant to, but it was too late to change that now.

His eyes narrowed, his own patience, even for the likes of Kim Possible, stretched to the breaking point by his hellish morning. "Get a grip, Kim. You're melting in your chair because some pretty-boy artist said two dozen words to you." She bristled visibly and Monique opened her mouth to intervene, but a harsh glare from the both of them stopped her mid-syllable. "I'm tired of hearing about Mankey this and Mankey that. He's got cool hair, big deal. Get over it." He hadn't _meant_ for his words to sound so bitingly critical, but hindsight is twenty twenty after the fact.

Kim's eyes widened slightly, and her mouth clamped shut in an angry line. She slammed her hands down on the table, stood up, and stormed out of the cafeteria without another word or so much as a backward glance. Ron was half-way out of his seat when he felt Felix's arm on his wrist. "Let her go, dude. You two are way too wound up right now; you'll just make it worse. Go talk to her later, after you've both had a chance to cool off." Ron looked at him and opened his mouth to protest, but instead he just sighed and sat back down, staring into his tray dejectedly.

_Aww man._


	5. Sticks And Stones And Maybe Fists

**Seven**

Sticks and Stones... And Maybe Fists

A Kim Possible Fiction

* * *

Author's Notes: Man... This is getting crazy. I was supposed to be completely done the first day, and all the subsequent ideas I'd had for it, by the third chapter, maximum. I've finally set the end up, so you don't have to worry about one never-ending day of hell anymore. I actually had the whole thing written out, but I was on page sixteen when I realized that it was too much, so I've gone and split it in half. Chapter Six should be up in the next couple of days – no, I won't be taking another three bloody weeks on that one. I've gotten all my job troubles straightened out, so hopefully my update schedule doesn't get any more stretched out than it already is. Chapter five should have been up like ten days ago, but after dealing with all the crap lately I was just burned out come the end of last week. And so, instead of working for you guys' benefit, I've spent the last seven days putting together the framework for a Mech Warrior storyline and catching up-to-date on fourteen different web comics, twenty-nine fanfics, and seeing Batman Begins twice. If BB is a portent of things to come, this year looks to be golden movie-wise anyway, eh?

As always, I hope you continue to enjoy the fruits of my labor (And what a labor it is... The creative process is much more difficult than the great authors of would lead one to believe, cranking out masterwork chapters every work week). Read it, review it if you've got a spare forty seconds kicking around, and then if you're still here, I'd recommend reading some of the works in my favorites section, my personal opinion of the cream of the fan fiction crop. Also, special thanks to G-Go – His advice should help stop me from needlessly complicating the language... There is such a thing as being _to_ verbose. Well, finally, here it is. Hopefully I haven't lost my entire readership from all my screwing about, eh? Chapter five of Seven: Sticks and Stones... And Maybe Fists – enjoy.

* * *

Amazing as most who knew him might find it, Ron really did take Felix's advice to give Kim some time to cool down to heart. In retrospect, Felix almost regretted opening his mouth, because it meant that Ron spent the entire lunch period agonizing at their table, but Felix was a better man than that, so he and Monique stoically bore their punishment in silence. He glanced over from where Ron sat morosely picking at his plate to Monique, whose expression was a peculiar mix of sympathy and self-pity. They exchanged a glance, Monique giving him a pointed look and he cleared his throat. "Ah, Ron man, chill dude. You know Kim, she can get... emotional... about things. You guys have next period together, right?" He received a short nod in reply. "There you go man, no worries. She's had almost an hour to chill out, and so have you, so just go talk to her."

Ron looked up, finally, and gave Felix a hopeful stare. "Yeah? Yeah, you're right dude. I mean, she knows I don't like Mankey anyway, so we can just blow this off on nerves." His face lit up and he smiled. "Hey, thanks guys. I'll catch you later... Gotta go talk to KP." He jumped up and practically raced from the cafeteria, heading for the science wing.

Monique turned away from the retreating form of one friend and fixed the other with a level glance. "Boy, you know as well as I do that Kim Possible is a wildfire. She isn't going to be cool, calm, or collected after stalking out of here for a couple of minutes."

Felix just looked up and shrugged. "What can I say; I couldn't take any more Stoppable angst..." He grinned, "And besides, at least Ron knows how to deal with Possible... He's better off then we are." Monique just shook her head and made a small noise of distaste.

* * *

Ron slipped through the halls toward the science hall, his bag swinging haphazardly from one shoulder. For perhaps the first time ever, Ron Stoppable was actually looking forward to Chemistry class. The realization of this almost cold-cocked him, and he shuddered violently. _For Kim, I'm doing it for Kim. Just... Gotta concentrate on doing it for Kim._ A tiny slip of a grin split his features for a second as he strode down the hall. _I just hope she realizes the sacrifice I'm making for her. _He shook his head and just worried about making it to class without any other unfortunate mishaps to add to today's tally. A short two minutes later he arrived at the classroom, none the worse for wear, and slipped into his normal seat – fourth desk, third row, right behind Kim's. He glanced up at the clock mounted above the blackboard and got an even bigger shock. Here he was, Ron Stoppable, one of the most liberal-minded entities concerning school you'll ever see, sitting down in chemistry class, and he was _early_. Ron sighed through another faint grin – he'd never live this one down.

The bell rang, as it is wont to do, and teenage bodies reluctantly began trudging through the door into the classroom. Ron rifled through his own personal Cliff Notes for apologies in his mind as his eyes scanned the stream of students coming through the door for one specific cheerleader. _There! Wait, no... No, not her... _As the bell ran down and the flood of students began to taper off Ron's eager disposition cracked slightly – worry the replacement as there was still no sign of Kim. Ron looked about the classroom and realized that there was only four empty desks left two on the other side of the room, Kim's, and another one back and one to the left. The class was almost all here, but where was Kim...? He leaned forward, straining to see more of the hallway through the open door. There, just a flash of her book bag swung into the visible space, like she was standing beside the door. Ron's eyebrow shot up and an unvoiced question rose to his lips when Kim stepped full into view. But, wait, there was someone else... Ron's eyes narrowed and he went instantly rigid as he saw Kim hanging off the arm of Josh Mankey. He clenched his teeth, but forced himself to calm down. _Remember, I'm here to make up with Kim... Don't blow this, Stoppable._

* * *

Kim squeezed Josh's arm tighter as they stood outside the classroom, not wanting to part from him. He smiled and looked down into her eyes. "Well, I guess this is it, huh?"

She nodded and reluctantly disengaged her arms from his. "Yeah, Chem. class, just how I want to spend my afternoon."

He chuckled, "I can bet." He glanced inside and saw Ron looking at them. Kim saw it too, and her expression darkened slightly. Josh looked down at her again and raised an eyebrow. "Everything alright with you and Ron?"

She sighed and rubbed her wrist. "Ron's just being an immature jerk right now... I don't know what his problem is, and I don't really want him dumping on me because of it so he can just deal." She forced herself to brighten and flashed him a dazzling smile. "Anyway, I'll see you later, 'kay?" Josh grinned at her and nodded, waving slightly as she ducked into the classroom and he started down the hall.

She walked up her row to her seat just in front of Ron, and saw him open his mouth to lobby some sort of greeting. The glare she pitted him with froze him straight in mid syllable – an insect pinned against the wall. To say she gave him the cold shoulder as she dropped her bag and slid into her seat is misleading. It implies that she acknowledged, at least somewhere in the very depths of her soul, that he existed and was worth the time to notice. What Ron got was an iron curtain, the metaphorical equivalent of his initial run-in earlier with Barkin. His jaw snapped shut with an audible click as he ground his molars ruthlessly. His dentist, he noted in passing, was going to kill him at his next checkup at this rate.

What the hell was this? What did _he_ do? _Kim_ was the one blowing things all out of proportion, and she has the nerve to give _him_ the cold shoulder! Ron scowled into the laminate of his desk, undecided as to whether to be hurt or angry. Kim didn't so much as twitch in his direction, pointedly ignoring him. Hurt won the toss up for the moment, and Ron glared into his desk.

Time passed, and Ron's continual attempts at voicing an apology, or even getting an acknowledgement out of Kim were met with icy silence. After the fifth attempt, he gave up, the hurt in him finally transforming into anger at this ice queen treatment. If Kim wanted to be a total bitch, Ron would certainly oblige her. The class ended, neither of the pair having gleaned much out of it, and they stormed out, each heading down opposite halls. Kim stalked her way off to Applied Mathematics while Ron stormed away to Home Economics.

Thankfully – for both their sakes – the final hour of classes passed without any major incidents, and the two teens went on to their separate obligations. Ron trudged down to D-Hall, slipping past the knots of predators that frequented the hall to hit detention with Barkin, and Kim went straight to the locker room to get ready for practice.

Ron shoved the door open and stalked over to his seat, grumbling and muttering under his breath. Mr. Barkin leaned forward in his chair and gave him a sharp look. "Sit down and be quiet, Stoppable. This is detention, not some free period social hall. If you don't want to be here, maybe you shouldn't be late for my classes." Ron scowled, an expression that seemed to have taken up permanent residence on his face. _Yeah, I was late, but only because I was helping Kim out._ Obviously, having an extra hour to stew in his frustrations wasn't going to do Ron's disposition any good. He sighed and pulled out his math textbook. If he was stuck here, he might as well try and get some homework finished.

* * *

Kim reached down and pulled the purple skirt up, setting it securely against her hips as she zipped up the side. She pulled her Pom-Poms from her locker, tossed her clothes inside and locked it back up. The cool metal of the back of lockers met her forehead as she leaned into them, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath to prepare herself for practice. It wasn't going to be pleasant, not with her being as agitated as she already was. She turned around and leaned back into the lockers, taking another few deep, calming breaths. _Remember Kim, you're still captain. Who cares what Bonnie says? She's just jealous about being second best._ She gained some small measure of control over her emotions, enough so that she wouldn't fly into a frenzy at the very sight of her rival, at least, and resolutely headed for the gym.

Forty-five seconds later, however, as she pushed open the double doors leading to the interior Kim knew that maintaining her composure was going to be a challenge. Bonnie stood by the bleachers, hands planted arrogantly on her hips as she glared towards the doors where Kim stood. "Cha, we have a starting time for a reason, K. Maybe the captain should be somebody who can be here, like, on time." Kim's grip tightened around her Pom-Poms as leveled a glare at Bonnie. The old saying, "If looks could kill" was definitely in effect here.

"Shut it, Bonnie. I'm in no mood to deal with you anymore." Kim turned to the rest of the squad sitting on the bleachers. Bonnie shot her a dark look and huffed, but Kim took no notice. "Alright girls, let's continue with yesterday's routine. The game is next Wednesday, so we need to get this down." The team quickly dispersed onto the floor and began tumbling, flipping, and running to the music coming from the stereo.

They worked hard for the next hour and the routine came along nicely. Kim helped Tara tighten up her tumbling number, and solidified the pyramid finale. Bonnie... Well, Bonnie was Bonnie. She harped, she heckled, she criticized, but she _did_ get her routine down. Of course, that fact did little to allay Kim's anger at every snide comment, every biting remark, and so she was still royally pissed off when they called it quits at ten to five. She stormed off to the locker room with only a few terse words, much to Bon-Bon's glee.

Leaning on one arm braced against the lockers, Kim fumed in the few precious minutes of solitude she had before the rest of the team shambled in. She pulled off her top and tossed it in her along with the Pom-Poms and her shoes. She pulled out her shirt and held it in her hand, rubbing her thumb across the pink heart emblazoned in the center. Her eyes narrowed and she tossed the shirt back in the locker and came out with a black sports bra and a pair of track pants, which she quickly swapped out for the rest of her uniform. Her parents definitely wouldn't appreciate her stomping through the house as worked up as she was now, and Kim really wasn't up for that long walk home in silence anyway. Closing the locker again, she brushed past the first few girls at the door and headed out to the fitness room down the hall.

* * *

Had he observed himself after he left D-Hall, Ron would never be able to tell you why he chose to amble around the school instead of head straight home. Perhaps he was anxious about going home, maybe he didn't want to hear his parents ask about Kim, but looking back on it, he'd have two views on walking down past the fitness room that afternoon. On one hand, his afternoon took a definite turn for the better, but on the other hand, waking up the next morning would bring an all new definition of hell. But he did, and it did, and it would, on all three counts.

The muted thump of fists on canvas reached his ears from the open door down the hall, punctuated by the odd mutter of a very familiar voice. A few more feet and the sounds were clearer, the curses and grumblings belonging to a one-time talent show runner-up and American Star Maker sensation. It would appear that Kim hadn't wanted to go home, either. Ron sighed and continued towards the open door. An hour in detention had given him the time to realize that their fight was pointless, and he wasn't about to have Kim angry at him for the rest of the week because he was too uppity to swallow his pride and apologize. He swallowed a large helping of crow and walked off to the door to set things right with his best friend.

* * *

A fist wrapped securely with white fighting tape smashed into the heavy canvas punching bag tied up to the ceiling. A shin quickly followed into the side, and then another pair of fists in succession. "Bonnie." A twist of movement and a heel slammed into the opposite side of the bag. An elbow followed, and then another whirl and three quick fist strikes. "Ron." An open fisted palm strike and a forearm smash rocked the bag backwards and the nylon ropes creaked in protest. A grunt of exertion punctuated a knee as it crashed into the side of the bag twice. "What is wrong with them?" Another one-two combination savaged the canvas. "I'm always getting Ron out of trouble, but can he possibly be happy for me when Josh takes some interest? Of course not! He's so self-centered, always thinking about himself." Jabs and kicks, elbows and smashes broke her words up as Kim worked over the bag. "What a jerk!" She rammed a fist into the center of the bag at that comment, swinging it way back on the ropes.

She stood there panting as the bag swung back and forth, and it was because she took a breather that she heard the angry snort sound from behind her. Emerald eyes flashes as she spun around and saw Ron leaning against the doorframe, his face dark and frustrated. "_Now_ what's your damage?" His eyes narrowed and he stalked over, tossing his backpack to the side.

"Well, I _was_ coming to see if you'd come to your senses, but obviously _that_ isn't going to happen any time soon."

Her eyes flared and she drew herself up indignantly. "Come to **_my_** senses! What the hell is wrong with you? _You're_ the one who can't be happy that somebody's taken an interest in me."

Ron sneered. "Oh, right. The fancy pants artsy pretty boy. Like _that's_ totally for real. Kim, he's just sniffing around because you're famous, and you know it."

"How dare you say that? How dare you! Josh is kind and sweet and caring. _He_ wouldn't insult you to your girlfriend – if you could get one, that is."

That hurt, and she saw it in his eyes. "Sticks and stones, Kim. But I've got to say, that's pretty shallow. _Bonnie_ shallow. I thought you were better than that, but obviously I was mistaken."

Her hand rocketed up, almost of its own volition and connected with the left side of his face, the crack of flesh on flesh echoing around the room. Ron's eyes snapped open as his head turned to the side, and a hand reached up to tentatively brush the red blotch already spreading across his cheek. Rufus peeked out of his pocket and screeched at Kim, hopping up and down indignantly. "So that's how it is, huh? Josh has got you hitting people now, does he?" His eyes were frigid as they bored into hers. "You have a problem that needs fighting, Kim? Fine. We're here already and you're good to go." He took a step back and pulled off his pullover, shoes, and socks, tossing them to the side by his backpack. A hand plucked Rufus from his perch and gently scooted him towards his clothing. "You're probably gonna want to sit this one out, buddy."

Kim was shocked, partly because she'd hit him, partly because he was standing up to her, and partly because she'd _liked_ hitting him. She'd _enjoyed_ it when her slap had jerked his head around and stole his hurtful words away. And then there was this other thing. Ron _never_ stood up to her; he always backed down, acquiescing to her demands, giving in to her arguments. She'd never seen him angry enough, forceful enough to actually challenge her position. It amused her and angered her at the same time, but it also delighted her. He was just asking for trouble now and trouble he'd definitely get. She straightened her shoulders and stalked over to where he waited on the sparring mats.

* * *

_Well, you've really put your foot in it this time, Stoppable. Come over to apologize and what do you do? You end up in a fist fight with your best friend – a friend, I might add, who know **sixteen **different styles of Kung-Fu. Way to improve the situation, jackass._ Ron would have kicked himself, had he been alone and not about to do battle with the most dangerous teenager in a fifty mile radius. As it was, he just ground his teeth and put his hands up. Time for a bit of the old Ron-Fu magic. Kim shook out her hands as she stood across from him and started bouncing on the balls of her feet. He saw the anger in her eyes, and felt it reciprocated in him. He also saw the precise, sharp movements of her hands and feet, and realized that this wasn't going to be pleasant. Well, he was stuck no matter what he did, so he did what was natural, and his hands started flailing about in his characteristic pre-fight/intimidation/self-assurance fake martial arts kata. Kim didn't find it amusing though, as the snap kick that exploded against the side of his head was testament to. That kick hadn't been sparring strength, either.

Ron squeezed his eyes shut for a second as he caught himself from reeling around. _O-kay, Ron, maybe right now isn't the best time for screwing around._ He brought his hands back up just in time to duck under a vicious roundhouse. Then he was jumping over a leg sweep as Kim continued her spin. He jumped back from a punch that whistled through the space his chest had just occupied, reeling from one attack to another with no time to catch himself in between. Kim kept up the blistering attack, pushing him back across the mats with a single minded drive. No way would he get any quarter from her, not after what he'd said. She was so focused on her attack, in fact, that she wasn't paying near as much attention to her form as she should have, so when she over-extended when Ron stepped out of the way of a heavy straight punch, she couldn't recover. It was exactly what Ron had been hoping for, and he wasn't one to waste such an opportunity gift-wrapped like that. His arms shot out, palms forward and connected with her chest, flinging her backwards and away from him and giving him room to think.

She skidded back on the balls of her feet, shock evident on her face. Ron had never shown any kind of skill like _this_ on their missions. Then again, he'd never really been in a fight on their missions, either. It was usually his job to go distract the forty or fifty goons that the villains always had lurking around, and that usually involved more running than fighting. Her thoughts were cut short, though, when she ducked under a double roundhouse and caught the follow-up punch combination on her forearms. The reverse straight punch that caught her jaw and snapped her upright really got her attention and made her stand-to though. She backpedaled a few steps to get some breathing room and brought her hands up in a ready position. Maybe this wouldn't be such a one-sided pounding after all. Synapses erupted with electrical impulses as sixteen forms of attack and defense flashed through Kim's mind. A snap kick was brushed aside with one arm as the other picked off the follow-up punch. She was halfway through the countering spin kick before she had even thought her way through the moves, moving on instinct and skills honed by years of life and death situations.

Ron found his advantage quickly dried up as Kim worked through her surprise at Ron's real abilities. _So much for the easy route._ He caught a side kick with his thigh, but failed to defend against the one-two combination Kim drilled into his chest. A grunt and a grudging step back were all that was gifted as he picked off the next few blows and snapped back with his own combination of fists. Ron found himself falling into a steady rhythm as his limbs once again lapsed into the familiar techniques of Ninjutsu and Tai Shing Pek Quar. Unfortunately, this only added to Kim's ire. Always before she'd been the superior, always the one to take the fight to their enemies, and content and secure in that role. Now she faced the prospect that perhaps she wasn't the only one with martial skills, and, being human, she was just shallow enough to be a little tweaked by that.

Ron had improvisation and the advantage of using combat forms Kim wasn't familiar with, but she had reflex, intuition, and almost six years of experience in her favor. They were a close match, but it was Kim's experience that still put her over the top, as the hard right cross that caught Ron across the jaw and spun him around showed him. So, too, did the heavy foot that planted itself in the small of his back as he was spinning and propelled him across the mat. He stumbled forward, but instead of catching himself and spinning in place he lunged forward into a shoulder roll, putting fifteen feet of breathing space between himself and Kim's lightning jabs.

They circled slowly at the edges of the mat in ready positions, the only sound breaking the silence their heavy breathing. Two set of eyes darted this way and that, scanning, appraising – searching for any weakness to be exploited. Two sets of hands circled around, ready to pick off any attack. Nothing presented itself – yet another point of amazement for Kim, so she decided to create an opportunity. A slight shift of weight, the planting of one foot and suddenly she was racing towards him.

The rush surprised Ron, but only for a moment. He tracked the way her body shifted as she ran at him and noticed that she dropped her weight on her rear foot. A slight smile graced his lips as he tensed his legs. He'd seen this particular move often enough to know when it was bearing down on him. His mind flashed through the series of events like quicksilver, Kim sliding back onto her rear foot, the other sweeping out in front of her to take out his own as she slid into him. His expertly timed leap to pass over her as she slid across the slick mats, and landing just behind her in perfect position for a snap kick or haymaker to her unprotected rear. It was perfect. He lowered himself down farther in preparation for his leap, hands going low just in case. It really would have been the perfect response to one of Kim's favorite moves, except for one small, trivial little detail.

Ron wasn't the only person who knew how to improvise.

As it turned out, Ron couldn't have presented a better target of himself. Right at the point where she was _supposed _to begin her slide, Kim flexed her legs and flipped into a handspring. She threw herself towards him off her arms, flipping up high and over him as his face flashed from supreme confidence to confusion to realization to dread all in the space between two heartbeats as she passed over his head. Her hands shot out and grabbed double handfuls of his shirt at the shoulders and as she landed back to back with him her legs tensed, her back arched, and she pulled for all she was worth. Ron had nabbed himself a front-row seat to Physics 101. Apply a force (the pull) overcoming inertia around a fulcrum (her anchoring body), release, and you've got trajectory. There was a shredding sound as the elastic fabric of Ron's shirt tore away in Kim's hands and then he was airborne.

Time seemed to freeze for a certain buffoonish sidekick as he left the safe, stable world of the ground and ventured deep into the unknown territory of uncontrolled ballistic flight. _Y'know, this is actually kind of nice... I wonder why Wade hasn't looked into flight tech more._ He was pondering the possibilities when the rotation of his body oriented him face-down. His eyes doubled in size as the purple sparring mat blasted by mere inches from the tip of his nose. _Eh, actually, maybe it's actually better that he doesn't..._ There wasn't time for anything else as gravity reasserted its hold on him and brought him crashing back down to reality. He skipped off the edge of the mat and tumbled across the unforgiving tile, coming to rest in a tangle on his back. Slightly glazed eyes bore into the dirt-speckled ceiling as Ron lay there for a solid five seconds without so much as a twitch. A single, explosive breath burst from his chest in a sort of coughing bark as he resumed breathing. _Ow._ He straightened his limbs out and made sure everything that was supposed to be attached was, then screwed his mouth shut, clamped down on the aches spreading through his body, lifted his legs up and kipped back onto his feet.

The battered and abused teen straightened up slowly, trying to work the kinks out of his arms and legs as he did so. He turned to Kim and dropped into a ready position. "Nice toss." She was thrown by the offhand, casual way he said it, and so was a fraction too slow in reacting when he exploded into a rush at her. With a frantic jerk of her head the powerful straight punch caught nothing but air over her shoulder, but unfortunately the knee that slammed into her stomach simultaneously to the first attack was just as troublesome. Her breath wheezed out as her knees sagged slightly, and Ron's elbow slipped through hers and he rotated in place and tossed her over his hip. Kim's cheerleading experience came in handy as she rolled with the throw, turning it into a roll instead of slamming down onto the mats. She broke his grip on her and the combat devolved into a vicious melee. The gloves had definitely come off, and both teens ramped up the intensity of their attacks.

Ron found himself once again outclassed by Kim's fighting experience. He had technique and form, but there were dozens of little in-fighting tricks that Kim had picked up over the years, and she wasn't shy about employing them. Slowly but steadily he was forced back across the mats, weaving and dodging and parrying for all he was worth. He backed up enough that suddenly there was tile on the soles of his feet. There wasn't really any time to worry about trivialities like that though as Kim stepped up her game again, pushing him back faster. He searched desperately for an escape, something to get him back in control, but there was nothing in reach. He stalled her for a second with a pair of combination snap kicks, but only for just that, a second and then Kim was all over him. He parried a pair of quick edge blows only to catch a foot in the sternum, shoving him back another few steps. He saw the double roundhouse coming even as she set up for it, but off balance as he was there was no way he'd be able to block with his arms or duck under, so he did the only thing left available to him. His legs tucked in underneath as he rolled backwards under the powerful kicks, only to find himself standing just outside the doorway to the fitness room. Chocolate eyes tracked up the hall reflexively, providing another chink in his armor that Kim's fist was willing to exploit, which it did to the utmost effect – all over the left side of Ron's face. Again he stumbled back, losing more ground – but at least this time it was out into an open hallway. Well, a mostly open hallway, that is.

Though it was after school hours there was still a token handful of students scattered about – students finishing up detentions, students working on extra curricular activities, and even a few who were just hanging out. There were five students currently in the hallway when Kim and Ron burst out of the fitness room, leaning against lockers or talking. All actions ceased, however, as five pairs of eyes locked on the spectacle that was slowly working its way down the hallway.

Kim pushed forward, wanting to bring this match to a close. She hammered a hard right hand into Ron's shoulder only to jerk back at the precise one-two counter punch she received in return. A growl slipped past her lips as she dropped into a leg sweep which was deftly hopped over, and caught a foot against her forearm. She lunged forward to grapple, butting up against his bare chest, but her fingers found no purchase on the sweat-slicked flesh so all she could do was to push him backwards farther down the hall. Backwards, as it turned out, into two of the by standing students watching the fight. They cried out as Ron jostled them, and again when another of Kim's missed blows dented in a locker behind him. The realization that this was no play-fight blossomed simultaneously in five young minds, and then everyone was scrambling to get out of the way.

Ron jumped back from another series of kicks, lashing out with his own feet as he franticly tried to stave off Kim's assault. A missed cross and his head wrenched to the side, a trickle of crimson leaking from the corner of his mouth. Four more successful blocks, and then another fist was buried in his midsection, stunning him and stealing away all his wind. His knees wavered slightly but then straightened up as he caught a backhand in the face. _Well, this looks to be about the end of the act, Stoppable. At least you made a good showing..._ Another few grudging steps were lost to Kim as he staggered back from her hit. He could sense the wall behind him as he caught Kim in the chin with a blistering snap kick, making it her turn to stumble. A right jab was lost over her shoulder, as was the sweep kick he threw at her when she flipped backwards away from him. Her foot tagged his hand as she went over, bringing his rush up short before he'd even taken two steps after her. Ron shook out the wounded appendage, grimacing at the sensation of a wave of pinpricks that rolled up his hand. Kim shot him a predatory look and Ron knew he was in trouble. He flexed his knees and lowered his center of gravity; ready to defend against whatever it was Kim had in mind for a finisher, acutely aware of the fact that only three feet behind him stood the heavy plywood doors leading to the gym. She took two steps and threw herself into the air, one leg stretched out in front of her in classic jump-kick form aimed right at Ron's chest. His eyes widened and his hands shot out, catching her foot and buffering the kick, trying to shunt away the force of the attack. His arms came back towards his chest, bleeding away the force of the kick. _Not... Going... To be... Enough..._ A size seven foot connected to one hundred and eighteen pounds of irate cheerleader smashed into his sternum and suddenly Ron found himself flying again, albeit this time backwards and much more painfully.

The joys of flight were short lived this time around though as he caught the aluminum bar handle on the door in the small of his back, tripping the latch and smashing the door open as he continued through. He was rolling to the side almost before he'd crashed to the polished hardwood, shifting out of the way as Kim came charging through the open portal after him. The roll carried him into a crouch in time to resume his harried defense and the two friend resumed combat. They fought down the line of the bleachers, but the attacks were coming slower all the time as the two best friends came within sight of the limits of their endurance. Kim missed a high sweep kick that caught her in the shoulder and rolled to the right, out towards the middle of the room as Ron pressed his advantage. Now it was Kim's turn to retreat as she ducked, weaved, and parried, her exhausted and aching muscles slowing down counter moves just enough to offset her superior skills. What should have been a snappy reverse punch was two heartbeats too slow coming off her block. The leg sweep that should have taken his legs out from under him was just slightly out of sync. It all amounted to leaving Kim scrambling to match the strange fighting styles of her opponent. She dropped under another punch and moved in to grapple, taking hold of his extended arm and turning to flip him across his back, but he rolled with her throw, landing on his feet just behind her and turning the throw back on her. Kim managed to shift enough of her weight so that she wasn't tossed half-way across the room, and landed on one shaky leg facing him. A quick jab to his already raw abdomen broke the grapple and brought his counter up short. She feinted with a knee and then drove a hard left to his cheek, stunning him. With the few precious seconds of space she'd won herself with the punch, she closed again and latched onto his arm, still trying for the winning toss.

It almost worked, too, as Ron was too busy clearing stars from his vision to shift his weight in time. As his feet left the ground he twisted his left leg and snagged it around Kim's knee, sticking tight against her thigh. Ron went over and Kim went with him with a startled exclamation, thanks to the leg trap. They slammed into the unforgiving floor in a great tangle of arms and legs with Ron turning to take the brunt of the hit on himself and Kim lying mostly on top of him with her back to his chest. Shocked from being pulled over and haggard from fighting at top intensity for so long, Kim was just a bit too slow in rolling off him, and Ron entwined her arms behind her back with his, still having a firm hold on her left leg. They writhed on the floor, each trying to gain leverage on the other, Kim to escape and Ron to keep her stuck. Amid the grunts, he twisted his shoulders slightly, simultaneously wrenching her arms back and depriving her of all her leverage. "You know," He gasped for breath between clenched teeth. "You hit _really_ hard when you're pissed off at someone."

Instantly she stiffened, aborting all attempts to free herself from his grasp. A long moment seconds passed as each sucked in lungful after lungful of air. Then she began to giggle. Her laughter progressed to a deep chuckle, where Ron took the opportunity to join in as the absurdity of the joke settled in on the both of them. They continued to laugh until they were both shaking with mirth. Kim pulled one arm free of his grasp and wiped at a tear that leaked from between closed lids. "You're not such a light-weight yourself." They continued to laugh together for a few moments more before the desire for oxygen got the better of them and they trailed off to silence, still breathing deeply and trying to get their heart rates under control. Kim lay there, simply luxuriating in the simple sensations of rising and falling with the movement of Ron's chest, both of them oblivious to the world for a few moments at least.

And then it was ended, ended by the scuff of one immaculate black dress shoe against the floor. "Stoppable, Possible. Explanation, **_now!_**"

* * *

Zomg liek, Kayin3 finishdedz0rz! Omgwtfbbq!11!11!oneonewuntoo

Again, I apologize for the delays. Being as it has been three weeks I thought you guy deserved a little extra, so I made this chunk of the chapter twice as long as a normal update. I _could_ go the cop-out route and say that it took so long specifically because it's twice as long, on the sly like, but I'd be lying. In fact, I only really actually started writing this thing three days ago... Did ten pages grins. I hope you liked it, and more specifically, I hope I've gotten a bit better in writing out fisticuffs combat. Cheers, and as I said, chapter six should be up inside a business week.


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